Don't Dare a Gryffindor
by NuclearNik
Summary: It was all very ordinary. In the best way, of course; in a way none of them had been allowed to be for a very, very long time. *Written for Draco's Den Schools Out For Summer Exchange*


Hermione wasn't sure how she found herself back at the home of her childhood enemy—this time not dragged in by snatchers, but _invited_.

Hogwarts had been rebuilt with the help and funding from the greater wizarding community; most certainly in part through financial reparations made by mostly pureblood families that had been complicit in the war. All the seventh year students who had their final year of education ruined—either by being forced to go on the run or by the dismal state of Hogwarts under Voldemort's regime—were invited to finish out their schooling.

The school welcomed the returning seventh years with open arms, as well as the other students still continuing their education.

The letters they had each received spoke clearly of a fresh start, a new beginning.

It had still been hard. No amount of perky professors and shiny new paint jobs could shake the unease that many students had felt returning to Hogwarts. For many of them, they were returning to a battlefield. There were ghosts lying heavy in those halls.

It had taken time; a lot of time, effort, and support from each other and the faculty, but Hogwarts slowly started to feel like home again. Headmistress McGonagall worked tirelessly to ensure inter-house unity and rid the school of outdated, prejudiced beliefs.

The people who had once stood firmly on different sides of a dividing line were now friends, tenuous though it may be.

On their very last day before school ended for the summer holidays, the older students had all received owls carrying blank pieces of parchment. Upon closer inspection and a revealing spell, they turned out to be invitations to "The Party of the Century" held at Malfoy Manor. The elder Malfoys were apparently out of town and Draco decided to take advantage of their absence. With NEWTs finally over and the stress of school behind them, it was the perfect way to let off some steam.

That is what brought Hermione to stand at the threshold of the house where she had been tortured by a madwoman.

Despite the excitement in the air, Hermione felt her chest start to squeeze, and her breathing sped up. She'd been dealing with panic attacks leftover from the war, but she would be damned if she let it stop her from enjoying herself tonight.

She closed her eyes for just a moment.

In her quest to find some sense of healing after the war had ripped her apart, Hermione had devoured every book she could find on trauma. Out of everything she had read, one particular technique stood out: grounding.

Grounding engaged all the senses. It was the practice of narrowing your focus to sensory input alone—what you were seeing, what you were smelling; right down to the feel of the ground beneath your feet.

This technique had helped Hermione immensely in the hard months as she tried to transition from being a soldier back to merely being a teenager.

Opening her eyes again, she saw a blackbird as it flew above, standing out starkly against the bright light of the moon. The scent of fireplace smoke and the sweet fragrance of honeysuckle was heavy on the air. A symphony of chirps and trills from busy insects could be heard, and the muffled sound of music came from the other side of the massive front doors.

When Hermione came back to herself, she felt steadier. She looked at the Manor and saw it for what it was—just a house made of wood and stone like any other house. Not so scary after all. The panic had receded and she was ready to have some fun. This would be one last hurrah before the monotony of work and real life commenced.

She took a deep breath and pushed open the doors.

The inside of the Manor was nearly unrecognizable from the last time she had been there, under not-so-fortunate circumstances.

The ballroom had been transformed into a dance club, complete with pulsing, shifting lights and music pumping from somewhere, bass so deep you could feel it in your chest.

There were laughing, carefree teenagers as far as the eye could see, many with a drink in their hands. In the back corner of the sitting room, two sixth years were playing a rousing game of tonsil Quidditch while yet another couple disappeared into a closet, clothes coming off before they had even fully shut the door.

It was all very ordinary. In the best way, of course; in a way none of them had been allowed to be for a very, very long time.

Spotting Harry across the floor, Hermione navigated through a sea of sweaty bodies to reach him.

"'Mione!" Harry seemed to be a few cups in already because he slurred her name and threw his arms around her with far more enthusiasm than he usually exhibited.

Hermione gave him a squeeze and an encouraging pat before pulling back from her overly-affectionate friend.

"Having fun, Harry?"

A distinctly female voice came from Harry's direction and a figure stepped around Harry's shoulder to stand next to him.

Pansy's sleek dark hair was perfect as usual, not a hair out of place.

"Oh yes, he's having a great time! Such a great time, in fact, that I've had to babysit him all night and make sure he doesn't embarrass himself." Pansy playfully bumped Harry with her hip, affection clear in her voice despite her words.

The two of them had truly been a pair that no one had expected, but somehow they worked. Harry was able to keep up with Pansy and all her ambitions, while she brought him back down to earth when his head got a little too big.

Though it took some time, Hermione could now begrudgingly admit that Pansy wasn't half bad.

Suddenly, a long arm was flung around Hermione's shoulders, and shaggy red hair filled her vision.

She and Ron had tried to make a go of it but found that once the rush of emotions and adrenaline faded, they were much better suited as friends than lovers.

Ron had been happy to play the charming bachelor and seemed to be doing just fine dating around.

He very thoughtfully tried to keep his activities from being rubbed in Hermione's face, but she really didn't mind. She loved him—she would always love him—but he wasn't hers anymore, and she wasn't his and that was okay.

She chatted with the boys and Pansy for a while, before parting ways with them to wander a bit. Hermione loved people watching. There was so much insight to gain by simply observing.

There was a couple tucked between a portrait of a baby Malfoy and a light fixture. A girl with thick purple hair and a swishy skirt was pressed with her back against the wall, wrapped around a tall, dark wizard whose hands were tangled in her hair. As Hermione watched, the mystery wizard trailed one hand down the girl's body, curling around a thigh and hitching her leg up around his hip.

Hermione felt a bit like a voyeur and was just about to turn and find herself a drink when she felt a presence at her back.

"Does that get you hot, Granger?" said a voice in her ear, warm breath on her neck. "Strangers so lost in each other they don't care that they're in a room full of people."

Hermione spun to see the party's gracious host wiggling his eyebrows suggestively in her general direction.

Deciding it might be fun to toy with him a bit, she pressed forward into his personal space instead of stepping back as he surely expected, and put on her best doe-eyed expression.

"Yes. You caught me. I'm so wound up and I—I, oh Malfoy, won't you let me take it out on you?"

She danced her fingers over his shoulders to twine together behind his neck, looking up at him through her lashes.

He stumbled back a step, confusion and panic clear on his face.

"Um—well, I—"

Hermione couldn't help herself and laughed out loud.

"Oh, that was good! You should have seen your face."

Malfoy extracted himself from her embrace with a frown on his face, displeased to have been the butt of her joke.

He shook his head and muttered, "Crazy bint," before disappearing into the crowd.

Still smiling, Hermione took off to search for a drink. She couldn't keep being okay with the crush of sweaty people all around her without a little something to help her along.

On one side of the ballroom, there was a table that stretched the length of the wall. Atop it were big glass bowls, each glowing a different color. Fog poured from one, sparks burst in the depths of another. They were mesmerising and Hermione found herself drawn to the table.

Grabbing a glass, she scooped up some of the shimmering plum-colored liquid and watched as it swirled into her cup.

Hermione closed her eyes and brought the glass to her lips, inhaling the sweet smell of the drink.

It tasted so good. Like nothing she'd ever had before.

She sipped slowly, as it had been a while since she last let loose and she wanted to pace herself.

A poppy dance beat started to play, and Hermione melted into the crowd of dancing people, hips keeping time to the beat.

She raised her glass in the air and let the rhythm take her away.

Though she didn't get to do it often, Hermione loved to dance. There was something about feeling a pounding beat thrum through her blood that made all her worries fade away. It shut off the overthinking side of her brain as nothing else could. She could forget her troubles and lose herself in the music.

As the song faded and the next started, Hermione felt a hand on her arm. She turned to see a smiling face behind a waterfall of pale blonde hair.

"Luna!"

"Hello, Hermione. You look lovely. Like a wood sprite."

Huffing out a laugh at Luna's fanciful way of wording things, Hermione smiled and thanked her.

"Won't you dance with me?" Luna held out a hand, patiently waiting for Hermione to take it.

The music had shifted to a slow, hypnotizing beat.

For the next hour, or maybe it was more, Hermione let her sensual side take over, moving with ease. She and Luna danced in tandem, twirling and dipping and letting their bodies sway together. It felt so good to just let go.

Flushed from the dancing and the alcohol, Hermione decided she needed some fresh air, so she left Luna in the capable—albeit nervous—hands of Neville Longbottom and roamed a bit before finding a door that led to the back garden.

The evening was cool, a light breeze dancing over her skin. The music from the party could be heard faintly in the night. Hermione looked around, taking in her surroundings.

The Manor's back garden was stunning. The calm surface of a pond sparkled in the moonlight, surrounded by low bushes. A prolific rose garden covered the entire right side of the yard, beautiful blooms in all different colors.

A bit farther back, nestled between some trees, was a stone bench. As Hermione drew closer, she saw that the stone had the figures of mythical creatures carved into it.

Circling the bench, she ran her fingers over the wings of Pegasus in flight, envious of its ability to fly without fear.

Taking a seat, Hermione tipped her head to the sky. The inky black of the night was decorated with pinpricks of brilliant light, making up the constellations of the summer sky.

The door from which she had escaped opened and a cacophony of sounds from the party filled the air. She flinched at the sudden noise and started to reach for her wand, before reminding herself that all was well and wiping a sweaty palm on her jean skirt.

Hermione saw a flash of pale hair in the light from the moon. The interrupter of her quiet solitude gracefully sat on the bench next to her.

"Too much party for your delicate constitution, Granger?"

Fixing her gaze back at the sky, she replied, "Indeed. I might faint from all the excitement. Surely your mother must have smelling salts around somewhere?"

"What do you know? Loosen you up a bit and you're actually kind of funny." Draco smirked.

"Should have seen me at Fleur's hen party. I was a laugh a minute."

"Firewhisky?"

Hermione shook her head. "Oh no. I introduced them all to the wonder of margaritas."

"Ah. Tequila then."

She looked in Malfoy's direction, surprised by his response.

"I'm a sheltered wizard, Granger, not a complete moron."

She pressed her lips together and hummed. "Could've fooled me."

"Ha ha."

Hermione leaned back on her hands, the liquor she'd had earlier and the summer heat still present after dark combining to make her feel pleasantly warm and relaxed.

"What are you doing out here anyway? Don't you need to play the charming host?"

"I don't have to play. Charm just comes naturally to me."

At that, she snorted indelicately.

Much to Hermione's surprise, they sat in damn near companionable silence for a few minutes, before Malfoy had to ruin it by opening his mouth.

"I want to redeem that offer you made earlier. Actually, no. Scratch that. I _dare_ you to make good on that offer you made earlier."

"I'm sorry?" Sitting up fully, she shifted a bit on the bench to see his face, utterly confused about what he was referring to.

The git fluttered his eyelashes at her and spoke in an annoyingly high pitched voice. "Oh Malfoy, won't you let me take it out on you?"

Hermione felt her cheeks flush further.

"It was a joke, you idiot "

"Uh-uh." He shook his head as arrogance lit up his face. "You propositioned me."

"Ha! As if."

"Admit it, you little tart."

She started to respond with the proper amount of indignation, but caught herself when she noticed he was smiling at her with mirth in his eyes and something that looked like… fondness? That couldn't be right.

"You can't just tease a man like that and then yank the carrot back."

"I am _not_ a carrot!"

"Merlin, you're easy to rile up." He laughed and it sounded good to her ears, and she started to wonder if she was a bit more buzzed than she originally thought because sitting there next to her in the moonlight, Malfoy was starting to look _delicious_.

It was perplexing.

She closed her eyes for a minute. She just needed a moment to think, that was all.

Sure, he hadn't been so bad lately. He'd kept his nose clean and his head down. He'd been downright cordial, sometimes.

Hermione had been pleasantly surprised to find that Malfoy had grown out of being a playground bully by the time they all returned to school. The war had impacted them all in different ways, it seemed.

And he _had_ made a worthy challenger for the highest marks in class. She'd been rather impressed by his intelligence and tenacity in the handful of times they'd been paired together for a project over the last year.

Hermione had to admit there was something undeniably sexy about honest dedication to learning.

But… Malfoy, attractive?

She opened her eyes to find him still smiling crookedly at her, and her attention was drawn to a dimple just to the left of his mouth that she'd never noticed before.

It was cute.

He was cute.

And he _had_ dared her. No self-respecting Gryffindor could just back down from a dare, right?

_Blast it all._

"Okay."

He raised an eyebrow, saying, "Okay what?"

"Okay, you can kiss me."

"Oh I can, can I?"

"Yes, but you'd better hurry because the window of opportunity is closing—"

A hand cradled the back of her head, fingers tangling in her hair, and then his mouth was on hers and they were kissing and she was lost in sensation.

She could taste honeyed liquor on his tongue, sweet and smooth with a little kick, and he smelled like expensive cologne—warm, spicy, and_ so good._

Draco made a noise in his throat, and she felt the rumble of it as she ran her hands up his chest, her fingers twisting in the fine material of his dress shirt.

He pulled back just a little, pressing his forehead against hers while they caught their breath.

The hair at the base of his neck felt like silk between her fingers, and Hermione chased his lips, impatient and wanting to feel them against her own again. It had been so long—_too long_—since she'd last felt wanted in this way.

More. She needed more.

She deepened the kiss and pressed closer to him, as close as she could get without full-on crawling in his lap.

There was a sudden rise in the volume of noise coming from the house, and the door to the ballroom was flung open, flinging back against the wall with a loud _crack_.

Hermione and Malfoy sprung apart and scooted to opposite sides of the bench, breathing hard and trying their best to look inconspicuous.

Quick as a snitch, a stark naked blur sprinted before them across the garden, only to leap with little finesse but much enthusiasm into the once serene pond.

More people had spilled out the door and were crowding around the pond.

When Seamus' dark head surfaced, he raised his fist and shouted, "Told ya I'd do it!"

Hands shuffled around in pockets, and one by one coins were dropped into the waiting hand of Seamus, who smiled smugly for a few moments before lifting his head and howling at the sky.

The rush of nerves at the prospect of being caught in flagrante delicto with Malfoy in a dark corner of his yard while his house was full of guests started to fade. Hermione laughed, shaking her head at Finnegan's antics.

With the attention Seamus had drawn, no one seemed to notice the odd couple tucked away on the bench.

When she turned back to her unexpected snogging partner, she found him staring at her again with a soft look on his face that she couldn't quite put her finger on.

"Go join your friends. I'll follow in a few minutes."

Without really knowing why, she hesitated. He reached out to brush a curl behind her ear, chuckling when it popped right back up again.

"Malfoy, we'll have to talk about this sooner or later and—"

"I know. Just not now. Go on, Granger."

It sounded suspiciously like an order, but he softened it with a barely-there smile and besides, she was still a little dazed from that kiss. She decided to leave it be—for now.

As Hermione made her way over to the crowd, she laughed when she heard Ron grumble about losing the bet against Seamus.

If he had only remembered one simple rule then perhaps he wouldn't be out a few galleons.

_Don't dare a Gryffindor._

* * *

A/N: Many thanks to the lovely BiscuitsForPotter for being a fantastic beta and helping me figure out where to take this when I was hopelessly lost. You rock!


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